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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012076">Rumors on Loose Tongues</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pchew/pseuds/Pchew'>Pchew</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Golden Boy, Golden God [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Female Jack Pattillo, Platonic FreeOna, Rated for Fiona’s mouth, title may change</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 12:54:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pchew/pseuds/Pchew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona was raised here in Los Santos. She knows the real story of how Midas came to be. Too bad her crewmates don’t. </p><p>It’s time for a history lesson. A very angry history lesson.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Golden Boy, Golden God [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Rumors on Loose Tongues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just a blurb to help set things up. This probably won’t make sense if you haven’t read the rest of the series, but otherwise please enjoy my word vomit. </p><p> </p><p>(Also posted from my phone so sorry if the format hecks up)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fiona was thoroughly, and rightfully, annoyed with her crewmates.  Well, most of them.</p><p> </p><p>But not Gavin. Not at all.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, she was annoyed on his behalf.</p><p> </p><p>On <em> Midas’s </em> behalf.</p><p> </p><p>Everyone thought they knew his story; that he was a greedy king who was ruined by his own hubris, but that’s not what happened.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, there was a kingdom and its house that was destroyed by a golden touch, and while Midas had been the touch, he was <em> not </em> the king.</p><p> </p><p>If anything, he was the victim.</p><p> </p><p>Those born and raised in Los Santos know this truth.  Fiona remembers bedtimes stories about how Midas protects the city, about how if her intentions were pure she could take a golden trinket to the little alter in an alleyway off of Sinner Street and pray.  He would always come, her mama told her, not out of compulsion, but out of compassion.</p><p> </p><p>And now, so many years later, having the story come to life in front of her, sitting on the couch laughing like a hyena not three feet away, almost brings tears to her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to be able to call the Patron Saint of Lost Causes a close friend, but yet she <em> can. </em>He’s her Gavvy. Her Schwa.</p><p> </p><p>And her stupid ass crew was <em> mocking him. </em></p><p> </p><p>Oh hell to the fuck no. Not on her watch.  </p><p> </p><p>Only thing stopping her from throttling the lot of them right now is the fact that Gavin is still smiling through the jabs. How can he be so calm about this bullshit blasphemy!?</p><p> </p><p>(Also that she doesn’t want witnesses to what is about to be a mass murder, but that’s neither here nor there).</p><p> </p><p>Just as she’s about to try and give him an excuse to leave, the little fucker gives her a <em> look </em>, like he knows what she’s thinking. Because of course he does.  </p><p> </p><p>Asshole.</p><p> </p><p>But god(heh)dammit he’s <em> her </em> asshole.</p><p> </p><p>Her asshole that just pretended he got a phone call and poofed off to his little gremlin den of an office. Well then.</p><p> </p><p>Now was her chance! </p><p> </p><p>With a deep clear of her throat, she gets the rest of the crew’s attention.  With one last nervous check to make sure Gavin’s door is closed and he won’t be privy to the verbal ass-whooping that the Fakes were about to receive, she steals herself.</p><p> </p><p>They stare at her, confused, ready to ask what her issue is, but before Geoff in all his mighty, leader glory can open his big, dumb, mouth, she goes off.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re all fucking <em> stupid </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pardon?” Jack says, eyes wide.</p><p> </p><p>“Stupid. All of you.  You think you’re so smart because of some crap story you learned in some crap Greek Mythology elective you took in your crap schools.  But you don’t. You <em> don’t </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Michael snorts, and she’s tempted him right in his piece-of-Jersey-shit face.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe later.</p><p> </p><p>“He was a douchenozzle who made a deal with what’s-his-nutts for gold powers and then it all went to shit. What’s not to know?”</p><p> </p><p>Okay, maybe now.</p><p> </p><p>She stomps up to his aforementioned piece-of-Jersey-shit face, and slaps him. <em> Hard. </em>  </p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck, Nova!?” </p><p> </p><p>She can feel herself shaking, and she’s pretty sure those happy tears she had earlier were now falling down her face angrily, but still she hisses at him, “You don’t know <em>anything</em>, Michael Jones.  None of you do.  Midas was not a king.  He was a <em>slave</em>.  A kid that was cursed by the father who never wanted him.  His mother was fucking murdered because of it!  The only king in his story was the one that ordered the execution and then kidnapped him while her body was still warm! You don’t know a goddamn <em>thing </em>and I’m tired of letting you pretend you do!  Some asshat thousands of years ago started that stupid rumor because stories about kings makes for a better profit!”</p><p> </p><p>They’re all taken aback by her outburst, too shocked to speak, so she continues.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know everything, no one does, but I do know that he came to this city to help us.  We’d have fallen off the map a long, long, time ago if he hadn’t.  Him and his Priest.  They’re the only reason Los Santos is still standing and the only reason you jackasses have it in the palm of your undeserving hands.  Midas is not greedy.  He’s the most selfless person to ever exist and...and…”</p><p> </p><p>That’s it.  Her dam breaks and she sobs, not knowing if they’re even listening to a word she said.</p><p> </p><p>Jeremy, sweet, sweet little Jeremy, who worshiped Gavin like the sun but still could never resist poking fun at him, can’t take it anymore.  He wraps his arms around her and squeezes tight.  She can feel his own tears soaking through her shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t have to continue.  I think we get the picture,” he hiccups, turning to the others, “Don’t we?”</p><p> </p><p>They can only nod.</p><p> </p><p>Tears and snot are gathering in Geoff’s beard and Fiona wants to laugh at how fucking gross he looks, but she can’t.  This is too important.  Jack is also crying, a well manicured hand covering her mouth and her eyes shining with shame.  Fiona knows this will keep her up all night.</p><p> </p><p> Michael won’t even look at her.</p><p> </p><p>Good.  She’s still mad at him, anyway.  He’s just lucky Lindsay wasn’t there with them.  Fiona knows she knows the truth.  She’d wager most of the others do,too.  If not, they will soon.  She is going to <em> violently and painfully </em> make sure of it.</p><p> </p><p>Now that they know, she doesn’t want to be there anymore.  Not with these people she doesn’t currently want to call her friends, so she leaves; the sounds of sniffling and self-hatred follow her down the hall.  As she climbs into bed, weary and done and still possibly, maybe, plotting murder, her phone dings.  It’s a simple text message, but it means the world to her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Thank you.” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope I did Fiona justice and that this doesn’t suck too bad. How dare you write my own au better than me Kris |D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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